


Second Chances

by tsundo



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundo/pseuds/tsundo
Summary: The war for Cybertron is still happening. Yet this time Cybertron is a distant land in this universe of Dungeons and Dragons.Drift still defects from the Decepticons and finds himself alone. Again. But after running out from the temporary Decepticon camp into the night while a blizzard is storming. The blizzard doesn't let up. Drift is attacked by a bear and he's left to die until someone finds him and saves him from his demise.And soon he finds himself in the Crystal monastery and starts his new life there with the one person who showed him kindness when he needed it most, Wing.Also known as. A very long background story on how Drift and Wing met in the Dungeons and Dragons universe.Drift: Lvl 10 Eladrin Fighter/Monk (Circle of Light Monastic Tradition) with the Firearm Specialist featWing: Lvl 17 Wood Elf Monk (Circle of Light Monastic Tradition)
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Wing
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Mistakes were made. Big ones. This one in particular. 

“Hold him!”

“Get his guns!”

“Chained up. Let’s see you escape now,” the figure then leans forward, his masked face glowering down towards Deadlock. “Betrayer,” he finishes. 

“You _need_ me, Turmoil,” Deadlock spits out. 

“You’re becoming increasingly reckless, _desperate_.”

“I’m _trying_ to win this war!” Deadlock snaps. The next thing Deadlock sees is Turmoil’s gun pointed straight at his face. In a split second, Deadlock snaps his neck to the side, the gun firing and destroying the chain holding him. His elf ears rang, unable to hear anything as he saw chaos ensue, his adrenaline rushing within him as he scrambled out of the chains and ran down the hall. 

“STOP HIM!” Turmoil’s voice yells out. He sprinted as he dodged the onslaught of bullets raining down the hall. He cuts a corner and smashes through a glass window, diving out onto the ground. He zips through the Decepticon camp, pushing things aside as well as people as he’s chased. He doesn’t even notice the raging blizzard that is going outside the camp. All Deadlock does is that he runs. Runs out of the camp and into the snow, disappearing. His footprints disappearing along with him.

“Dammit. We’re not going to be able to track him in that storm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Turmoil then says. “He can’t outrun a blizzard. Nature will take him.”

“What if he survives?”

“Then spread the word. Deadlock has been banished. Kill on sight.”

* * *

_Running. That’s all I can think of right now. Enemies on both sides. Stranded. Alone. Alone, images of the alleys of Cybertron come flooding back. Old memories. Painful. I need to get back. I need to get up there. We need to win this war. The gutters. The smell. The smell that would never leave. I’m back there again. Old memories… And no one to save me this time._

The blizzard seems to grow even worse than it already is right now. Wind howling in the background. And it suddenly feels increasingly cold. Deadlock ran out of there with _nothing_ and has nothing. His breath is visible in the air but quickly whisked away. He shudders as he begins to feel his body heat lower than usual. It only grows worse when he sees a large black figure in the distance. When he draws closer, unable to turn back, he sees that it’s a large black bear. Why it was out in the blizzard was peculiar. The wind howled and Deadlock only hopes that it didn’t see him. He was wrong. The bear is spooked if anything by him and rears up. Deadlock, not knowing any better, tries to fight instead of get down and cover the back of his neck. The bear quickly overpowers him, its large claws scratching at him, his armor protecting him only a little bit. The bear roars out loud and swipes at Deadlock. He doesn’t know why he keeps fighting. The thought of ‘don’t be weak’ urging him on. It doesn’t work out for him as well as he wants though as he’s soon tossed aside, bleeding profusely. He’s scratched to all hell and bloodied, unable to move. His heart quickens as he looks up at the black bear towering over him. Is this where he’s going to die? But suddenly the black bear is scared off, another figure approaching. This one is humanoid and there’s the faint image of a cape billowing from behind. That’s the last thing Deadlock sees before he blacks out from blood loss. 

He wakes up. And he’s no longer surrounded by the blizzard. Instead he’s surrounded by candlelight. The surface he’s laying on is uncomfortable and hard. As if it were a stone slab.

“Everything’s alright? He’s moving,” a voice says aside. Deadlock tries to sit up and is gently pushed back down. “Don’t try that,” he warns gently. “You’re still pretty beat up.” Deadlock bristles at the contact and tries to calm down.

“What’s happening? What… what’s going on?” Deadlock’s voice croaks out as if it weren’t used for a while. He looks around and sees a few other people surrounding him. He eyes the one who spoke earlier and he looks to be an elf like Deadlock. He looks more similar to a wood elf in comparison to the eladrin that Deadlock is, his black hair different in comparison to Deadlock’s short white hair. The outfit he was wearing alongside the other people were wearing monk-like robes. 

“Your body was severely damaged, you almost died out there in that blizzard,” he replies. 

“We healed you, Decepticon. Your life was saved,” one of them says. 

“Healed me?” Deadlock exclaims, sitting up this time, ignoring the ache. “Who are you?” he then hisses, swinging his legs over, getting off of the slab and backing away. The first monk who spoke, raises his hands and tries to calm Deadlock down. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” he says gently. “I took you out of there, you would have died. And most likely have been eaten by a bear.” Deadlock continues to back away as the monk approaches. 

“Took me out of there? To where? Where is this...” Deadlock then backs out onto what seems to be a balcony and his back hits the railing. He whirls around and soon falls quiet. “Place?” His jaw drops as he looks at the scene in front of him. Below him lies a village, covered by greenery and buildings that seem to have stood for thousands of years, tiled roofing sloping down and curling up at the tip. There’s citizens walking about in the village with children, there’s a steady stream of fresh water coming down from the top of the mountain, filling a lake that almost has a crystalline look, being able to see to the bottom. There’s a large gate in the far distance at the edge of the mountain that stands tall with a sudden drop, clouds shrouding the drop below. Deadlock is still stunned at the sheer size of the village as well as how it doesn’t look _destroyed_ or _raided_. It’s more similar to the size of a city, as this mountain has a large surface area. It’s as if the war had never touched it. A place frozen in time. 

“I told you,” the monk says, joining him at the balcony. “No one will harm you here. Welcome to the Crystal monastery.”

* * *

Wind. A howling wind. It was a familiar sound that Wing heard whenever he made his trip down to the bottom of the mountain. He made his way down, standing on the makeshift elevator that would take people up and down to the village. He trudged his way through the large blizzard that surrounded the mountain after covering up the elevator platform with some fresh snow. The blizzard was always storming, it was a security measure. The dragon that looked over this city had gone into a deep slumber, causing the blizzard to surround the base of the mountain. 

Wing made his way into the dense forest in front of him and treaded lightly, his shortbow drawn as he saw the slightest movement. He let his nocked arrow fly and it landed on his target. With a start he darted forward and grabbed the rabbit he killed and hooked it to his belt as he began to continue his hunt. Upon getting three more, he finished up his hunt and began to make his journey back to the makeshift elevator. It’s only when his elf ear twitched did he pick up the sound of a struggle. There’s the sound of a bear and… something else. Wing quickly changed directions towards the sound and ran atop the snow, feet falling lightly on top where he saw a large black bear sniffing at a fallen figure. There’s the sight of blood and immediately Wing moved. He took his cape and gained the bear’s attention, making himself as large as possible with his cape and he yelled at the bear, scaring it off. Wing, feeling bad, unhooked a rabbit he got earlier and tossed into the bear’s mouth, the bear running off with a meal. He immediately turned towards the body and grabbed him, hoisting his body on Wing’s shoulders. He ran back towards the elevator, pulled the hidden lever and hopped onto the platform as it began to lift up off the ground. 

Once the elevator got to the top he hopped off of the platform and ran down the street, past various houses as people watched in confusion. He made his way up the stairs to the monastery and ran into the healing room. 

“Listen, I found him outside at the base of the mountain, he’s hurt. Bad,” Wing said, panting. 

“Get him on the bed,” they replied quickly. Wing tried to carefully dump this unconscious figure onto the healing slab and began to strip him of his armour so the medic could get to his wounds. “Put pressure here,” they ordered. Wing quickly got to it and applied pressure to stop his bleeding. The monk then rubbed their hands together and a warm golden light began to glow from their palms as they pressed it against the unconscious man’s chest. “Why were you down there again,” the medic asked, palms still pressed against him. 

“I was hunting,” Wing replied. 

“We have enough food up here,” they scolded. “You know that.” The two are silent after that and they continue to work on the unconscious man. They leaned back. “He’s stable for now,” they say, beginning to work on his other wounds, the scratches from the black bear littering his arms. When the medic made their way to his bicep they stopped wrapping bandages on him and darted their eyes towards Wing. 

“What?” Wing asked. 

“He’s a Decepticon,” they said, revealing his recently scratched Decepticon tattoo etched into his bicep. “You’re going to have to tell Dai Atlas.” Wing’s ears fell back in nervousness. 

“Ah,” Wing simply replied. He then ran out of the healing room and made his way to the main prayer room. He ran onto the wooden veranda and knelt onto the floor. “Master,” he said. 

“What is it, Wing?” Dai Atlas replied calmly, his meditation having been rudely interrupted by Wing. Wing knows there’s no way to put this delicately.

“There is… A Decepticon in the healing room, that I brought up from the base of the mountain.” The peace in the prayer room was immediately broken. 

“YOU’VE BROUGHT A _WHAT?!_ ”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“I. I don’t understand,” Deadlock starts as he looks down upon the village. “How can this… exist?”

“It was more horrific than we could ever have anticipated,” the monk starts beside him. “Two factions at war and so many eager to choose sides. But many didn’t want to be a part of it either. Before long, the land was engulfed and those refusing to take part had little hope of survival. The Circle of Light convened. The decision was made. If it weren’t for Dai Atlas who had come back to where the Circle of Light originated from, the Crystal monastery, we surely would have perished. We had the beginnings of a new society, a new Cybertron. Those who chose to come with us were mostly scholars. The rest were those fleeing for their lives, not wishing to take up arms in an ideological battle.” This ticks Deadlock. 

“Ideological?” he says, turning towards him, his fists tight. “We were at war for the _future_ of Cybertron. We are at war for-”

“Your war _damned_ the future of Cybertron,” he quickly snaps back. 

“So I should have run? Crawled off to a mountain in a city of cowards?” Deadlock sneers. 

“We rescued thousands and took action to protect what was left of the Cybertronian way of life,” he replies. “Look around you,” he says, pointing down to the city. “This is no mere city, this is a utopia. No sickness, no poverty. No one forgotten to fall between the cracks.” He pauses and looks towards Deadlock. “What is it you’re actually fighting for? What is it that convinced you to take up arms?” Deadlock doesn’t respond. “You’re no run of the mill brute. You believe in something. I can see it.”

“You see nothing,” Deadlock snaps. He’s on the defense. Whatever this monk sees in him, he doesn’t want him to see at all. 

“Cybertron was falling apart before the war. Our society was sick and bloated and rotten. Do you remember? Do you remember how difficult it was? Because for some, it was almost impossible. The war didn’t come out of nowhere, I understand that.” Deadlock’s eyes darken as he looks away from the monk as memories of the alleyways come to mind. “But could you have imagined anything like this? An end to suffering. To struggling. A peaceful city where no one is left behind.” The monk pauses, looking off towards the village. “Tell me, Decepticon. What do you think? Do you want to destroy _this_ , too? _”_

“It’s not Decepticon,” Deadlock says. He purses his lips as he thinks about it. Old memories. Old names. “It’s Drift.” The monk blinks in slight surprise. 

“Wing,” is all he replies.

* * *

_You had NO right bringing a Decepticon here, Wing! Let alone going down to the base of the mountain. What if you had been spotted?_

_He was in need, Master._

**_He_ ** _is a Decepticon._

_He’s one of our kind._

_Decepticons are NOT our kind!_

_So after all these years of preaching against factions, we’ve created our own? Is that it?_

_We are the Circle of Light and what is left of Cybertron’s ancient culture. You_ **_know_ ** _our laws. We must not involve ourselves with ANY outsiders! Nothing is more important than preserving what we have here!_

 _At what cost. Our own compassion? He needs us. If he goes back down there, the blizzard will_ **_kill_ ** _him._

_His ways could influence our people, Wing. His very presence could potentially bring more Decepticons here and with them the war we’ve fought so long to avoid._

_Violence is their only language. If he betrays us. If he destroys what we have here, the burden will be yours and yours alone, Wing. From now on the Decepticon is_ **_your_ ** _responsibility. You will stay with him at all times. And he is NOT to be exposed to the people of this village, he is to stay within the confines of the monastery._

_He won’t betray us. I know he won’t._

_And how can you possibly guarantee that?_

That was a few days ago when Wing had first brought Drift in. So when Drift heard that he was to be staying with Wing immediately after waking up from that healing slab, he was absolutely not having it. 

“I know this is. Unfair. But you cannot leave the monastery at all. It’s for the safety and wellbeing of everyone here.”

“So I’m trapped here against my will, is what you’re saying,” Drift sighs. 

“Yes,” Wing says. “Going down there wouldn’t be a good idea for you anyway,” he then reasons. “The blizzard down there would kill you.” Drift’s stomach then embarrassingly growls and Wing can’t help but give an amused smile. “Would you like something to eat? You have been unconscious for a few days.” Drift doesn’t reply and only shrugs gruffly. “Come with me, I can take you somewhere to get food.” He motions with his hand and Drift stands there as he walks off before tailing behind, keeping ample distance between the two. Wing leads Drift to what seems to be the dining hall of the monastery. Upon entering the dining hall, the smell of steamed foods fills the air and Drift’s stomach growls once again. Wing takes him to a table where there’s a stack of bamboo baskets stacked atop each other. Wing then takes the top one’s lid off and reveals some fairly large steamed buns, he motions for Drift to take some and he does, grabbing four of these as his hunger was gnawing at his stomach. He sits down at an empty round table and begins to eat it. It’s the most delicious thing Drift’s ever eaten. Having been used to the war food as well as the meagre scraps he’d receive back in the alleyways all those years ago this was… divine. The inside is a savoury pork and cabbage combination with a mix of ginger and garlic. 

Wing, himself, has gotten himself some food different from Drift’s. He’s gotten a meagre bowl of rice along with pickled vegetables and some tofu. He sits across from Drift and the two eat in an awkward silence that Wing almost refuses to acknowledge. Upon finishing their food, the two make their way back to Wing’s room, Wing cheekily taking two steamed buns to go and eating one on the way before offering Drift the other one. 

Drift eyes Wing in suspicion before hesitatingly taking the steamed bun and eating it, feeling properly full now. When the two enter Wing’s room, it’s fairly small. Tatami mat covers the floor, aside is a small table to be knelt at with calligraphy paper and tools strewn about. There’s only one futon on the ground with a cylindrical pillow. Across at the end of the room is a small wooden platform meant for meditation with an incense pot sitting on the corner. The room opens up into a balcony, showing the night time scene of the city, paper lanterns all over the village having been lit, producing a soft orange glow, off in the distance the two can hear the waterfall that feeds into the lake. The room itself is illuminated by candlelight. 

“There’s only one bed here,” Drift points out in dismay. The way he says bed is more of one in disappointment.

“Oh, that’s yours,” Wing then replies. “I don’t sleep,” he says casually as he sits down at the meditation platform, facing the open balcony. Drift cocks his head this time in confusion and looks towards the futon. 

“What?” he asks. Wing’s ears tilt back in response to Drift and he doesn’t turn to face him when he replies. 

“You know elves don’t need sleep, right?” Wing then asks. 

“Of course I do,” Drift snaps back, feeling embarrassed as all hell at the revelation. He’d always wondered exactly why after sleeping for 4 hours he’d feel well rested. Suppose it made sense then as to why elves were mainly the ones working the night shift when guarding well. Anything, during the war. He looks back at the futon again and then sniffs himself. Right. He’s been out for a few days _unconscious_. “Listen,” he starts. “Wing,” he adds quickly. 

“Hm?” Wing replies, still facing the balcony. 

“Where’s your bath,” Drift asks. 

“Oh! Right, you have been out for a few days, it must be uncomfortable.” 

“Mhmm,” Drift only replies, drawing his mouth in a tight line.

“Let me grab a couple towels then, I’ll take you to the bathhouse.”

“Bath. House?” Drift then asks in disbelief. Wing stands up this time from his meditation platform and grabs a couple towels from a shelf this time. 

“Yes, we have communal baths here in the monastery.”

“Communal,” Drift repeats. “There’s going to be people. Seeing me. Naked.”

“Yes, but modesty isn’t exactly. Well, existent here? It’s just a body after all,” Wing says. Drift then sits down crosslegged. 

“I’m good then,” Drift says. Wing pauses for a moment as he holds the towels. 

“Drift,” he says. “Listen, I know I need to keep an eye on you, and this may seem. Rather invasive.”

“I can sleep, whatever,” Drift says passive aggressively. To that Wing pouts and he sits down across from Drift and places his towel down. 

“There’s going to be a fair amount of people from the monastery in the bathhouse,” Wing starts. “But… in the later hours, it’s almost always empty.“

“Nobody will be in there,” Drift replies for confirmation. 

“There’s an opaque glass door in between the bathhouse and the changing room, I can peek in and tell you if it’s empty,” Wing says. Drift leans back in understanding. “Just know I am going to have to be with you at all times.”

“I’m not going to escape buck naked!” Drift exclaims. 

“Oh no, I figured. I’m gonna be out in the changing room to give you privacy and keep an eye on you is what I mean,” Wing says. Drift blinks. It was interesting how Wing was respecting Drift’s boundaries. Despite being forced to stay here, Wing seems like he was trying his best to make Drift comfortable. Drift sits back this time. 

“I’m going to meditate for the time being and we can go to the bathhouse when it’s the later hours,” Wing says, standing up from his spot. Drift continues to sit at his spot and he watches as Wing sits back down at his meditation platform, this time grabbing some incense beforehand and lighting it with a nearby candle before setting it in the incense bowl. The earthy scent then fills the room and Drift scrunches his nose at the strong smell. He spends the next few hours sitting against the wall, bored out of his mind. When the time finally comes, Wing stands up from his meditation platform, the incense having burned out a while ago. He picks up both towels and slides open the door. Drift follows suit and the two leave the residential part of the monastery and onto the gravel path leading to the bathhouse. The bathhouse is fairly large, leading into a changing room at first, cubbies meant for shoes, boots, sandals and what not and then further in larger cubbies for clothing to be set inside. To Drift’s luck, none of the cubbies were filled, meaning no one was inside. Wing, being respectful of Drift’s privacy, he went ahead and turned away from him. Drift changes quickly and slips into the bath portion of the bathhouse with his towel, the glass door sliding shut, leaving Wing alone in the changing room. 

In front of Drift is the most traditional looking bathhouse he’s ever seen. There’s a spot set aside for monks of the monastery to properly clean themselves, each spot equipped with a wooden bucket as well as a crystal mirror that hangs on the wall. There are two glass bottles of what seem to be holding thick clear liquid. One of the bottles is labeled ‘shampoo’ while the other is labeled ‘body soap’. Wing’s voice then comes through the glass sliding door, the sound muffled. 

“Make sure to clean yourself before you enter the bath by the way, it’s customary and keeps the water clean for a longer period,” Wing says. Drift doesn’t reply but goes along with it and cleans himself, before approaching the large bath. Steam comes off of the water as warm yellow light bounces off of the surface. He dips his toe into the bath and slips in, sitting down as his muscles immediately relax upon hitting the hot water. He sighs, relaxing and shuts his eyes, thinking about what happened these past few days. After contemplating it, he opens his eyes, realising how much time has passed. He gets out of the bath and makes his way back to the changing room, sliding the glass door, his towel covering his torso. Wing is sitting on a stool, leaned against the wall as his eyes are shut, chest moving up and down as if he were napping, but the tell tale movement of his ears tells Drift otherwise. Drift doesn’t say anything in apology though for making Wing wait and Wing doesn’t mention anything about it. He simply stands up after opening his eyes and leaves with Drift back to the room, where Drift lays down on the futon. When Drift gets comfortable, Wing blows all the candles out and closes the door leading to the balcony. The room is immediately covered in darkness and Wing takes his place at the meditation platform once again. 

And for the first time in his life, Drift goes to sleep oddly at ease. 

Reference to where everything is in the monastery as well as the village below:

For size reference, the temple in the monastery is the size of Todaiji temple in Nara, Japan.


	3. Chapter 3

Drift wakes up to the sound of shuffling in the early hours in the morning. The sun still has yet to rise on the mountain city. The sound of a match being struck then fills the room and the scent of incense fills the room once again. He sighs quietly and turns his back towards the meditation platform, going back to sleep. 

When he wakes again this time, the sun has just shown itself on the mountain and Wing is. Gone. He sits up from his futon in confusion and looks around to see no one else is in the room. He stands up this time and stretches, looking at the balcony, the doors open to where the sound of rushing water echoes in the distance once again. He makes his way to the balcony this time and peers over it, down to the bottom. It’s a fairly far fall, the monastery being on a higher part of the mountain in comparison to the rest of the village. Drift then hears the door slide open and he whirls around to see Wing holding a bag of apples.

“Oh!” Wing says in gentle surprise, his hair looks wet as if he came out of the bath earlier. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you earlier.”

“Uh. No,” Drift replies. 

“I picked some apples from the garden earlier after cleaning up at the bathhouse,” Wing says, holding the bag. “Would you like one?”

“There’s a garden?” Drift asks. Wing then smiles.

“How about I give you a tour of the monastery?” he offers. “It’s something to pass the time.” Drift takes the apple Wing was offering him and bites into it. 

“Yeah, sure,” Drift replies. The two exit Wing’s room and the two head for the dining hall first, eating breakfast. Breakfast seems to only be one thing. Rice porridge. There’s freshly chopped green onions as well as various sauces put aside to make the rice porridge more flavourful. There were much more people in the dining hall this time eating. When Wing and Drift entered, Drift could feel the glares and the uneasiness coming off of the other monks. Eyes boring into his back. Wing grabs his food and Drift does as well, sitting down at an empty spot at one of the tables. Wing seems to be aware of the glares as he eats his rice porridge quickly, Drift following suit to avoid any more judgmental stares. 

“This starts the tour of the monastery then,” Wing says. The monastery is much larger than Drift expected. He knew that the residential portion was large but the dining hall didn’t exactly reflect that. Most of the grounds were covered by gravel, some portions sand-like and dragged into geometric designs. There was a monk who was even dragging said designs into the sand with a rake. In the centre of the monastery was a gigantic temple. Wing had mentioned it being the prayer room as well as where most events happened. Drift didn’t exactly pay attention to the details Wing said during the tour but it was better than being stuck in his room with nothing to do. The two then went to the left side of the monastery, where the bathhouse was as well as the garden further down. When Drift saw the garden he was impressed to say the least. There were various fruit plants that Drift wasn’t exactly familiar with. There were vegetables as well that he’d seen earlier in the dining hall’s kitchen. Various monks tend to the farm and wave at Wing as the two walk through. The other half of the garden happens to be various flowers that Drift had never seen before. Granted Drift has never really seen too many things due to his time in the alley and next the war. He never had the chance or opportunity to appreciate things like this. The two make their way to the right side and the right side has two large buildings, there’s shouting coming from the one on the right and the left the sounds of clanging is heard as smoke comes up from the roof. The one on the right was a sparring area, where some monks were going at it back and forth, hand to hand combat. Others were using what looked like dulled shortswords and scimitars against each other. Wing then took him into the smoking building which happened to be where people were blacksmithing weapons. The main thing was that they were only swords. There were some greatswords as well that stood out as some of the older, more veteran looking monks were forging said greatswords. Each greatsword had a large circular blue gemstone in the centre of the hilt. 

“What exactly is up with those greatswords,” Drift then asks as the two leave the blacksmithing building. 

“Members of the Circle of Light receive their greatsword after training with the monastery for years on end,” Wing replies. “I’ve grown up here so I received my greatsword fairly early on,” Wing preens. 

“How come I haven’t seen it?” Drift then asks. 

“It’s tucked away in my room, there’s no need to use it in most cases unless I really have to,” Wing replies. “It draws upon your life force, so you can’t use it often,” Wing clarifies. “If you were to use it multiple times in a day, well. It’d kill you.”

“Wing,” Dai Atlas calls out sharply as the two continued to explore the grounds. “Why is  _ he  _ out here?”

“It’d be cruel to keep him locked in my room, Master,” Wing replies. “He hasn’t left the monastery grounds so I have been following your rules.”

“He’ll try to run the moment you look away,” Dai Atlas warns. Drift can’t help but roll his eyes. Wing, though, frowns. 

“I will keep a better eye on him then,” Wing says, his voice even and expression hard. He then turns away and Drift follows him. Wing seems to be heading towards the sparring area. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Drift asks lightly as the two stop at the entrance. The sparring area seems to be empty from earlier and Wing takes off his sandals, setting them aside and getting onto the wooden flooring of the sparring area. He turns towards Drift this time and points at the area where Drift’s Decepticon tattoo is, the scars freshly healing over it. 

“What does this stand for?” he then calls out. 

“It’s the symbol of Decepticons, you know what-” Drift replies but is cut off by Wing. 

“What does it  _ mean _ ,” Wing then urges. Drift steps onto the sparring area. 

“Strength, power, conviction...” Drift lists, standing at the edge.

“Superiority?” Wing asks harshly. Drift doesn’t reply this time. “So you’re the best then, the strongest. And because of that you should rule?”

“Yes,” Drift replies automatically. Wing then takes a stance and taunts him. 

“Prove it. No guns. No swords,  _ prove it _ ,” Wing says with conviction. Drift lunges towards him and tries to attack, only for Wing to dodge it quickly and pushes him. When Drift lands on the floor, Wing readies his stance again. “ _ Prove it _ .” He repeats. Drift scrambles up and tries to land a punch on him, Wing grabbing it before it can land on him. Wing then knees him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He lands on the floor, clutching his stomach. “We’re going to do this every day. Every day, I’m going to give you a chance to prove me wrong. If you beat me, you’re free to walk out of here. If you don’t…”

“If I don’t?” Drift growls. 

“You’re here. Forever.”

“Some deal. You’ve had years of training.”

“And you haven’t?”

“Not without a gun,” Drift replies.

“So learn,  _ Drift _ ,” Wing says, leaning down. Drift grits his teeth in response and Wing holds his hand out for Drift to take to pull him back up. Drift scoffs and waves it away as he gets back up by himself. “We’re done for today at least. But we’ll be fighting. And training every day,” Wing then says. “Dai Atlas thinks you can’t change, but I know you can,” he then says. 

The two go at it for weeks, everyday Drift and Wing sparring against each other. And every day Drift gets his ass kicked. He’s getting frustrated. Every day the two eat together, sleep or meditate in the same room together. Wing still takes Drift to the bathhouse in the late hours, knowing he still isn’t comfortable enough to be in there with other people. Soon at one point, Wing and Drift are in the bathhouse at the same time. Wing still keeps his distance, washing up at the other side and relaxing in the hot spring across from Drift. When the next day comes, the two spar, Drift reluctantly getting into the habit of training. Despite his training though, he still loses. 

“Too slow,” Wing says as Drift tries to run at him, stepping aside. “We’ve been at this for weeks, you’re still too obvious with your attacks. Hide your intentions,” Wing chides as he grabs Drift, grapples him and tosses him over his back, using his momentum. As Drift’s flying through the air, Wing calls out. “Come on, Drift, where’s all that Decepticon power and superiority?” he asks. “If you want to conquer the planet, you need to try harder than that. ” As Drift lands on his back, he gets back up, kneeling on the ground as that last phrase finally made him snap. 

“That’s not why I joined,” Drift says quietly.

“What?” Wing says as he approaches him. 

“That’s NOT why I joined!” Drift yells out this time, pushing at Wing’s chest, standing up. Wing stumbles back in surprise for a moment. “I didn’t join to ‘conquer’ anything,” he rubs at a new bruise that’s forming as he walks further away from Wing. “I was alone, discarded on the street when I was found. When  _ he  _ took me in,” Drift reminisces. 

“Megatron?”

“No,” Drift replies. “Gasket.” He sits down at the edge of the wooden platform of the sparring area and pulls his legs close to his chest. “He was a lot like you, annoyingly optimistic. He banded us together, gave us hope, and kept us alive. We were the city’s refuse, no one cared if we lived or died. They only cared when we stole their precious food. We were stealing to live, but that didn’t matter. It never mattered to them.” He balls his fists as he remembers what happened back in the alleyways before letting go. Wing sits down beside him, swinging his legs off the platform. “I couldn’t control myself. It was pure instinct. Pure  _ aggression.  _ That’s when I realised I had a gift for violence, one that would come in handy in the years to come. I was forced into hiding. But it wasn’t too long before news of my actions reached Cybertron’s underworld. I was trained. Put to good use. And learned just how corrupt our society’s elite  _ really  _ were.” He doesn’t meet Wing’s eyes. “You said it yourself - Cybertron was rotten to the core. How many of us were forgotten? How many were being left to die in the streets while the politicians grew rich? Something had to be done. Someone had to make a stand,” Drift finishes. 

“There was another way,” Wing says calmly. Drift immediately snaps his head aside to look at Wing this time. 

“No. There was NO other way,” Drift snarls. “ _ He  _ made me see that.” Wing only frowns as he hears Drift say that, knowing it was Megatron this time. 

“But can’t you see? Look where it got us. Look what it did to Cybertron,” Wing replies. 

“The old ways weren’t working, we needed a new system, a new order,” Drift says. 

“But not through war and killing!” Wing exclaims. “You say there wasn’t another way, yet we found it. Equality and peace around you.” There was the sound of birds chirping. “This city and monastery holds everything you ever wanted.” He then places a hand on Drift’s shoulder. Drift reacts negatively to the touch and Wing pulls back apologetically. “Your spark might have been in the right place. But somewhere along the line you lost your way,” Wing says gently this time. “Megatron used all of you. But unlike the rest,  _ you’ve  _ got a second chance.” Drift doesn’t reply this time and he gets up, going to the entrance and putting his sandals back on before walking off. He stays in Wing’s room for the rest of the day, refusing to leave. The frustration in him stews and he stands at the balcony. 

Wing was right. This  _ was  _ everything he wanted. It’s what he’s always wanted. Wing doesn’t come to the room for the rest of the day. In fact, he only comes in during the evening with the steamed buns, knowing Drift didn’t eat for the rest of the day. Drift lies on his side, facing the balcony, not meeting Wing’s eyes. When Wing sets them down on the nightstand next to Drift, he gives a weak smile and shuffles off to light the candles before setting them inside their lanterns for the evening and kneels down at the table with calligraphy. Drift sits up this time, taking the steamed buns that Wing brought and scarfs them down, sitting against the wall as he watches Wing begin writing his calligraphy. He didn’t seem to notice beforehand but there’s crystals floating as he writes, the light shimmering and almost humming. It immediately relaxes Drift upon hearing that hum and Wing continues to write his calligraphy. After a couple of hours, Wing finally stands up from his table and grabs a towel. 

“I’m heading to the bathhouse, would you like to join me?” Wing asks this time. It’s an earlier hour in comparison to the time Drift is used to going to the bathhouse. When Drift shakes his head, Wing gives a soft smile in response. “Alright, well, I’ll be back soon,” he replies. He leaves the room after that and Drift is left alone in the room again. He doesn’t understand why Wing smiles at him so much. It leaves him feeling. Weird. The crystals he saw earlier are no longer floating and set aside into a box. He approaches the calligraphy table in curiosity and sees the writing Wing left on his most recent paper. It’s foreign to Drift, something he’s not familiar with at all. He figures he should ask Wing when he comes back. So when Wing does come back, he asks. “Oh, that?” Wing says, rubbing a towel at his black damp hair. “It’s an ancient dialect of Draconic. You may be familiar with the drakes of this planet, how they have wings and such. The dragons that speak this form of Draconic though… are wingless. They have the horns of a deer, the ears of a cow, the scales of a carp, an eagle’s claws, the eyes of a rabbit, a tiger’s paws, and the body of a snake,” Wing says. “They created this dialect of Draconic,” he says. “They write in a way that represents images of what’s in the known world.” Wing then takes another piece of paper and dips his brush into the calligraphy ink writing the character, 川. “That means river,” Wing says. “It makes sense, right? It looks like a river if you look at it from above, like streaming water.” Drift shows some slight interest this time to the characters Wing writes. 

“Do you know how to speak it?” Drift then asks. 

“Of course!” Wing says enthusiastically. “I grew up with it after all.” Drift doesn’t understand how Wing can be this bubbly. 

“Can you teach me?” Drift then asks. At that moment, Wing’s ears wriggle in excitement as a wide smile grows on his face. 

“I can teach you more than that.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Drift learns. So much more than he ever expected. Not only does he learn calligraphy as well as that dialect of Draconic, he learns how the monks go about every day. It’s not just sparring and fighting with weapons, it’s gardening, it’s cooking, it’s cleaning, it’s meditating, and most exciting of all. Blacksmithing. Throughout the next few months, the rest of the monks at the monastery get used to Drift and his presence. With how much he participates in the things everyone does at the monastery, he soon blends in with the rest. He’s still not as skilled as everyone with what he does everyday except for cooking, having a natural talent for it. Over time it really feels like he’s becoming a member of the Circle of Light. 

Drift continues to lose against Wing when they spar. But Drift improves nonetheless. Even Wing is beginning to get ‘battle scars’. Scratches that Drift leaves, bruises. But Wing still smiles nonetheless. Usually after their sparring matches, Drift would leave for the healing room to tend to his wounds but recently it’s been getting much more… Intimate. At this point Drift stays in Wing’s room as Wing tends to Drift’s wounds. At the beginning, it would be quick and over with, Wing simply fixing him up and heading off to do other things. But the past few weeks it’s become a much longer custom between the two. Drift’s gaze lingers on Wing as he wraps his bandages and rubs a soothing salve made from plants from the garden on Drift’s bruises. When a strand of hair falls in front of Wing’s face, Drift lifts a hand that pushes the strand aside behind Wing’s ear. The two freeze for a moment with what Drift had done and immediately both of their faces flush red in embarrassment. 

The two don’t speak about it for the rest of the day. Or for the next few weeks. They continue life as usual. Drift continues to learn what it’s like to be a monk in the Crystal monastery, feeling somewhat content with his new life. He still feels… cooped up though. He still hasn’t had a chance to exactly go down to the village. According to Wing, there’s thousands of people down there. He’s seen the kids and people milling about from the balcony. And Wing seems to know that he’s not enjoying being cooped up exactly. 

The monastery is much more busy than normal, the normal hustle and bustle of life intensified more than usual. There’s decorations set up around the monastery as well as colourful paper lanterns hanging outside of every building. The amount of crystals has increased greatly. Drift can’t avoid a crystal at all at this point. 

“What’s going on?” Drift asks. 

“It’s the Crystal Festival,” Wing replies, holding various decorations. “The whole monastery and village celebrates it. That as well as the Lunar Festival, the Solar Festival and spring and winter solstice.”

“What’s the Crystal Festival exactly?” he then asks. 

“I guess it’s the most important festival at the Crystal monastery, we celebrate the day the monastery was established as well as paying homage to the dragon that protects this mountain,” Wing replies. “We’ll be celebrating in the evening and because it’ll be so chaotic… we can sneak out.”

“Sneak out?"

“Down to the village,” he motions. “I know you’ve felt rather trapped here lately, I know you’ve changed your mind about the monastery but. It can feel. Confining sometimes.”

“How can we leave though?”

“I got a plan,” Wing winks. 

When evening comes, the colourful lanterns have been lit and the monastery is filled with people from the village below. There’s food stalls set up with various chefs from the village, some stands are giving out crystalline items to those who want it. The villagers are dressed in traditional garb, everyone sporting unique colourful patterns on the fabric of their robes. There’s a specific stand that has various handmade wooden masks, most of them masks of the dragon that protects the mountain, some of them as foxes and cats. 

Drift sits in Wing’s room, hearing the lively sound of a festival going on outside as well as below. When the door slides open, Wing is carrying two colourful festival garb as well as two masks. One as a fox and the other as a cat. Both were mainly white with red markings decorating it. He hands one of the robes to Drift as well as the cat mask. 

“Put these on,” Wing says. Drift doesn’t question it and after the two are dressed, they slip out of Wing’s room. After leaving the residential part of the monastery, the two slip into the crowd streaming in and out of the monastery. Wing takes Drift around the open part of the monastery where the stalls are. There’s various foods that Drift actually has not seen before. There’s various sweets as well as street foods that these chefs are practicing their craft at. Drift’s eye catches on this one food stall where there is a weird piece of meat in the centre of dough along with some vegetables, using two turning picks to flip the balls of dough quickly. Wing motions to ask for a serving of it and the chef takes a few fully cooked ones, drizzling a sauce over it and handing it to Wing in a paper mache bowl. Wing pops a couple in his mouth, exhaling quickly. “Hot, hot!” Drift can’t help but laugh a little at the sight and Wing chuckles in response. He hands the rest to Drift who picks at it every now and then as the two walk to more food stalls. There’s what seems to be a shaved ice stall, a few stalls are selling dumplings, a couple stalls sporting large pots with noodles, where various villagers are sitting near the noodle stalls, eating from bowls that the noodle stalls handed out before they’re handed back and someone within the stalls uses magic to clean it. Drift heads to the noodle stall, Wing following and the two each get a bowl of noodles in a dark brown broth, green onions sprinkled atop it as well as some red pepper flakes. When they eat, Drift sees the amount of kids who are here having fun. A little girl seems to be watching Drift as he eats and he notices. The little girl then smiles and waves and Drift waves back. Wing watches him in amusement and general fondness at the sight. When the two finish their noodles, Wing leads Drift to a dumpling stall this time and then to a fish stall. 

Drift feels absolutely content. The amount of good food he’s eaten has left his elf ears wriggling in happiness. Wing walks off, leaving Drift with his fish on a stick. He then comes back with a thing of shaved ice covered in a sweet milky sauce with some sweet red beans mixed in. He hands Drift a wooden spoon. There’s already been a few bites taken out of it, obviously by Wing as he holds his wooden spoon in his mouth. He takes the shaved ice from Wing and begins to dig in, Wing taking his spoon and grabbing a bite every now and then. When the two are finished, Wing cleans up for the both of them and Wing absentmindedly takes Drift’s hand, whisking him away from all the stalls and down the stairs away from the monastery. The stairs are. Incredibly long. It’s amazing with how many people made the trek up. There’s still villagers making their way up to the monastery. Some are going down with Drift and Wing as well. The two reach the bottom and there’s another line of stalls with food, crystals, masks and various other goods handcrafted by artisans. 

“Where are you taking me?” Drift asks. 

“Just hold on,” Wing replies. Drift sees two crystals in his other hand as Wing walks quickly through the crowd, making his way out of the stalls. There’s a performance platform further ahead and Drift can hear the sound of festival music, flutes playing, drums echoing. There’s another crowd of people, this time watching the performance. Wing stops and points at the performance, Drift watching intently as he sees the performers dancing out a scene in regards to the dragon that protects the mountain. When the performance ends, Wing drags Drift somewhere else, Drift almost tripping on his sandals. Wing slows down apologetically. “Sorry, I’m just. So excited for you to be a part of this festival,” he says. Drift doesn’t feel mad at all. They’re back at the stalls again and they eat some more food, looking at the handcrafted goods the people of this city had made before Drift notices a mass of people making their way down from the monastery. Wing, who seems to know what’s going on, leads Drift in the direction the mass is going, towards the crystal lake. “Do you know how to dance?” Wing asks on the way. 

“Umm… No,” Drift replies. 

“Well, this one’s pretty easy, just follow my movements when we get there,” he smiles. There’s a few other people there already at the lake. The lake is incredibly large but it makes sense if this mountain is able to be home to thousands of people. The water sparkles, reflecting the moonlight off of it and there’s a slight hum. The sound of rushing water from the waterfall fills the air as it’s much closer now than from the balcony. After a few minutes of waiting, Drift can see almost the entire population of the mountain surrounding the lake. The lake then begins to glow, the crystals humming in different frequencies. It sounds like. Music. And as these crystals sing, the people begin to dance. Wing begins to dance along to it, his eyes looking at Drift who stands awkwardly. “Follow my movements,” he says quietly. Drift tries to mimic them to his best extent but begins to feel embarrassed and eventually stops. Wing can’t help but chuckle to himself and Wing takes Drift’s hand once again and leads him past the crowd to the back. He doesn’t stop though. He leads Drift towards a trail into the upper parts of the mountain and the two climb, Wing leading him past a few small shrines until they enter a clearing, specifically a ledge that overlooks the lake. There’s a flat rock that Wing sits down on, Drift sitting down beside him, looking down at the people as they continue to dance, the crystals humming its song. When the crystals stop singing, Wing hands Drift one of the crystals he had earlier. There’s a slight blue glow coming from the crystal he’s holding and eventually it glows brighter and brighter. Wing looks towards Drift with an excited toothless smile before he looks back down towards the lake. The people surrounding it have their own glowing crystals and in a synchronised movement, they release the crystals, pushing it up towards the sky. The crystals float upwards, Wing coaxing his crystal upwards. He looks at Drift expectantly and Drift does it, watching in wonder to all the crystals that are now floating higher and higher towards the night sky. 

Wing and Drift watch as the bright blue glow of each crystal shimmers in the moonlight, lifting higher and higher until the crystals reach the peak of the mountain and disintegrate into sparkling dust into the night sky, whisked away. It’s only when Wing squeezes Drift’s hand does he realise that they’ve been holding hands the entire time. And then Drift feels it. The butterflies in his stomach. His heart quickens and he looks towards Wing who’s looking at him with utmost fondness and affection. He’s giving him that smile that Drift’s grown to love throughout these months. He licks his lips for a moment in nervousness and doesn’t realise that he’s leaning forward towards Wing, growing close and closer to him. His lips press gently against Wing’s, his eyes closing shut. When Wing reciprocates, he pulls back, unsure and scared, but still holding his hand as he’s looking forward down towards the lake, watching everyone disperse. He can see from the corner of his eye Wing smiling brightly at him. After a few minutes of silence, Wing finally stands up from the rock and pulls Drift up gently with him. 

“Let’s go home,” Wing says softly. Drift looks at him this time, a smile on his face. 

“Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

Drift trains. He continues to train throughout the months. Wing and Drift still spar together, but Drift doesn’t feel too determined to  _ win  _ anymore. He gets stronger, better, faster, he’s still leagues away from Wing’s level, but he’s getting there. 

And Drift’s relationship with Wing. Well, ever since their kiss at the Crystal Festival, they’ve grown much closer. Drift actually feels happy. Wing is too. Drift no longer feels as adverse to touch as he used to be. In fact, Wing often loops his finger with Drift’s when the two are walking together in the monastery grounds. Dai Atlas still is suspicious of Drift and his intentions, but over the years, Dai Atlas begins to loosen up. He sees how close Wing is to Drift, how affectionate he is. Dai Atlas disapproves of their relationship. But Wing doesn’t exactly care what his master thinks in this case. Drift’s changed for the better. Both Drift and Wing know that. There’s moments where Drift longs to get out of the monastery though and Wing always gives him the opportunity to sneak out and go into the village. No one really bats an eye at Drift when he’s down there with the people. He holds onto Wing’s hand as they explore the village, Drift never letting go, not wanting to get lost as he’s still unfamiliar with the roads. 

There’s still questions biting in the back of his mind as he sees people going about their daily lives. He sees couples, some of them sporting red markings on their face. 

“What are those markings for?” Drift asks one day. 

“Oh, those?” Wing points out. “Those are marriage tattoos,” Wing replies. 

“Marriage tattoos?” Wing hums in response. 

“Couples living on the Crystal mountain, if they want to get married, get those facial tattoos during their marriage ceremony,” Wing explains. 

“Huh.” 

Years pass. Drift is accustomed to the monastery now. It’s his home. He’s one of them now. Any semblance of the Decepticon, Deadlock, is gone. The only thing that remains would be the tattoo, which stands as a reminder to what Drift did in the past. He feels guilty, but he’s happy how much he’s changed for the better. He doesn’t feel angry at the world anymore. It’s a liberating feeling. He doesn’t sleep anymore, he meditates with Wing every night now, sitting beside him as the incense, a scent he’s grown used to and finds comfort in now, burns. Wing and Drift are practically inseparable at this point. 

One day when the two are sparring, Drift finally manages to beat Wing. He’s surprised as well as Wing. When Wing gets back up he bows to him in respect before his face drops, his smile weak, eyes pooling with grief. His ears are tilted back as both of them realise what this means. 

“You can leave,” Wing says. “You’re strong enough to face the blizzard and everything out there after that,” he says. “So I will keep my end of the deal. You’re free to go.” Drift doesn’t move. His jaw tightens as he sees Wing getting ready to let go of him. And he realises he  _ hates  _ seeing Wing sad. Especially under a circumstance like this. So when Wing goes to leave, Drift grabs his wrist and tugs. 

“I’m not leaving,” Drift says with finality. The words come out of his mouth without any difficulty. “I wanna stay here. With you,” he says. “I finally found my home,” Drift says, pulling Wing close. “It’s you.”

And immediately Wing’s demeanour changes, the smile he gives Drift the brightest thing he’s seen. Wing then pulls Drift into a hug and nuzzles into his neck.

“I love you,” Wing breathes. Drift shakes in his grasp as he processes what Wing just said. He hugs him back tightly, hands gripping his robes. The person who has shown him nothing but kindness throughout these years just said he loves him. Wing never gave up on him. Maybe that’s why he felt so  _ overwhelmed.  _

“I love you too,” he says quietly, shutting his eyes tight. 

News of the war being over reaches the Crystal monastery. It’s none other than Optimus Prime who sends the message throughout the entire country that rattles the entire population. The war was over. Dai Atlas is suspicious at first, until he hears Megatron’s message of surrender. Within the span of a few days, the clouds surrounding the mountain dissipate. There’s a loud rumbling from below, deep within the mountain until the long slender body of a dragon begins to stream out the mountain. The blizzard below is no longer there, the snow melting as the dragon began to fly around the mountain. 

The villagers who were around when the dragon used to do this everyday cheer. Others watch in awe, Drift being one of them. Wing smiles as he sees the dragon that protected them flying about once again just like when he was a child. 

Cybertron begins to be rebuilt from its war torn state and Drift stands at the edge of the mountain with Wing, looking at the vast expanse of land before him that he never got the chance to see beforehand. Wing takes his hand as he looks around in awe. 

“The war’s over,” Wing breathes. 

“Yeah,” Drift replies. “I can’t believe it myself.”

“What would you like to do now?” Wing then asks, his expression gentle, giving him that smile that Drift always got. 

“I don’t know,” Drift says in all honesty. 

“Well, I would like to go down and help everyone who needs it,” Wing says. “I’ve spent all my time here, it only makes sense that I go down there and help those in need. It wouldn’t sit right with me if that weren’t the case.” Drift hums as he thinks about it. 

“What if we got married?” Drift then asks. There’s a light breeze that tussles his long white hair, having grown it out during his time at the monastery. “That way both of us can go down and help those in need.” He turns to Wing who’s surprised. But his ears then start wriggling in excitement and he hugs Drift. When Dai Atlas hears of their engagement, he’s disapproving as always but doesn’t comment on it. 

The marriage ceremony happens with all the monks from the monastery attending. They’ve all known Wing since he was a child and this was a day of celebration. Drift and Wing both wear bright silk robes, kneeling across each other, a large bowl of tea in the centre. The two drink from the same bowl, passing it to each other before the bowl is taken away and is replaced with a small bowl of red paint. There’s two calligraphy brushes set beside the bowl and Wing takes a brush and dips it into the red paint. From what Drift remembers, the paint is imbued with magic to be permanent. Wing takes his time painting Drift’s red markings, feeling the brush eventually hit the corner of his mouth. He does the same to the other side and Drift grabs his brush, painting Wing’s face. When the two finish, Wing can’t stop smiling at him. Dai Atlas then does a prayer to the gods the monastery worships as well as the dragon. The dragon itself, knowing of Wing’s connection to the monastery, makes an appearance, landing on top of the temple and leaning down towards Wing and Drift. Drift has never seen a dragon up close before and he feels exposed as the dragon eyes him. When the dragon huffs through its nostrils, both Wing and Drift are covered in a light sheet of snow and rears back, getting off of the temple roof and flies off back into the sky. The snow on their heads quickly melts but Drift feels… different. 

The ceremony ends, the two of them being escorted down the monastery with the guests trailing behind to essentially parade the two around, villagers who’ve known Wing all their life coming out to see that he’s gotten married.

A few days later the two are standing at the large gate at the edge of the mountain again. They have bags full of supplies, food, and Drift is sporting his new greatsword that he’d been working on for the last few weeks, Wing with his own. As the two stand at the edge, Wing looks over to Drift in excitement. 

“Are you ready for our adventure to begin?” Wing asks. 

“With you, I’m more than ready,” Drift smiles. 


End file.
